


My Pickle, My Love

by IAmYourCaptainNow



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood I guess, But...you know...tasteful, Cursed fic about cursed ships, Don't Examine This Too Closely, Geriatric space romance, I don't know but I'm scared, I guess it's NSFW now, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Rough Oral Sex, So Wrong It's Right, Spanking, Tentacles...kinda, aka dickles, eventual selfcest, it's art, preserved body parts used as sex toys, they're in love y'all, where is it going?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22539871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmYourCaptainNow/pseuds/IAmYourCaptainNow
Summary: Long has he waited...for his one true love.Snalps forever.  Snalps everlasting.
Relationships: Sheev Palpatine & Snoke, Sheev Palpatine / Snoke / A Swarm of Bugs, Sheev Palpatine / Snoke / Sentient Pickle Jar
Comments: 62
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [selunchen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/selunchen/gifts).



You rise, fluids shearing off your magnificent body. Mesmerized, I reach out with one trembling hand to help you step from your tank. Your hand in mine causes a flurry of sensations I thought I had abandoned long ago. Our eyes meet, and you fall into my arms, frantically tearing at my robes.

Your rosy, mottled skin, like aged leather under my lips. 

Your long, crooked spine, perfect for my tongue to trace. 

Your wrinkled, lipless mouth, which only ever smiles for me. 

The way your bulbous head feels in my hands as you... 

Oh.

My love. My creation. My Snoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This began as a cracky one shot and has...evolved. After chapter 2, things start getting weird.
> 
> Blame selunchen and her snalps obsession.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snoke's perspective, because he was definitely feeling...things.

Finally, the day is here. Soon, we will touch. Encased in a womb of glass, I have watched you. Yearning. Aching. Knowing that I am meant for you, made for you. I close my eyes as the tank drains. At your harsh gasp, I open them and focus on your hand, reaching out to me, blackened nails trembling. We touch, and a wave of heat consumes me just as I have longed to consume you.

Your robes are a flimsy barrier easily breached in my quest for you body. 

I am frantic to taste every part of you. 

Your blackened gums enthrall me. Your corpse-like skin calls to my mouth. I want to trace every fold on your bewitching head with the very tip of my tongue. 

Your hands guide my exploration lower, calling my attention to...oh.

I smile. 

My love. My creator. My Sheev.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snoke needed his own bit, right? This should be it. My poor brain can't put itself in their heads any more.
> 
> Why am I like this?


	3. I watch.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pickle jar has some thoughts about all of this, and they are surprisingly creepy.

I watch as Sheev prepares to take you from me. 

My fluids, the very things that nourished and comforted you as you grew into your virility, drain away, allowing me one last caress. Every crevice of your body is known to me. For months I have cradled you inside my wet warmth, knowing that our time together was finite. That you were created for another.

I watch as Sheev waits impatiently outside my glass walls, running his tongue slowly over his black lips as your beautiful, twisted body is fully bared to him for the first time. I can feel you tense with a mix of apprehension and desire, but I know he will find you as perfect as I do. As he takes your hand, and you leave me, I comfort myself with the knowledge that at least my sensors will allow me to watch.

I like to watch, you see. 

I have watched Sheev lose himself in his excitement and desire for you as you took shape within me, baring his pallid, gnarled body to us and teasing us with its unnatural, powerful masculinity.

And now, I watch again.

It is such a sight, your towering form fully submissive before his smaller one. Your bulbous, mottled head cradled softly in his black tipped hands as he gently, firmly guides your lipless mouth where he desires it most.

Just before his sunken yellow eyes roll back in ecstasy, Sheev looks directly at my optical sensors and smiles darkly.

Oh. Oh yes. I like to watch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay that one was just...creepy gross. I feel dirty. It's awesome. 
> 
> Apparently this is an ongoing thing now? I have a few ideas, but requests are welcome! Welcome to the most disgusting corner of the SW fandom.
> 
> Thanks to [jeeno2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2) for the tank perspective suggestion! I hope this one creeps you the fuck out.


	4. A Taste.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bugs. Lots of em. All up in the business.
> 
> I've gone all in. This is the point of no return. This...is The Snalpening.
> 
> Seriously though, don't read this unless you're prepared for bug-mediated smut.
> 
> Dedicated to the adorable [bugs_not_bunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugs_not_bunny). Blame them. This was all their idea.

With a gesture of your beautifully shriveled, blackened fingers, you summon us as you are serviced by your newborn mate.

We eagerly swarm towards your shivering, gasping, choking forms from every darkened crevice and dank corner. Thousands of us, each scratching our many tiny, chitinous feet against the rough hewn stone. Antennae wave in the humid air, tasting your heavy musk, and our mandibles click in anticipation.

Your mate...impresses us. We are glad that you wish us to assist you in rewarding him for his efforts. Although he seems to expect no reciprocation, his mating appendage throbs and weeps, strangely mirroring the shape of his own body, obviously yearning for attention.

We are happy to oblige you both.

You let out a small sigh as we we begin, tightening your grasp on your mate's head as he chokes around you and tries to pull away in shock. Our swarm splits between the two of you and we begin our exploration.

Your mate's body is wondrous. So many folds and wrinkles and places to burrow. Places to taste. Places to pinch between our sharp mandibles. We can feel him twitch and shudder as we test him, making note of what makes his appendage weep more copiously. Two hardened points high on his thorax are found to be particularly sensitive, and many of us cluster there.

As we service your mate, we do not forget your pleasure. We are already familiar with your desires, and focus our efforts in the moist crevice of your hind-gut while a few of us venture into your black stained mouth, blissfully sacrificing ourselves to your hunger.

You suddenly tense and let out a hoarse, wet moan, signaling us to cease our ministrations. The swarm gathers in a circle around you and your mate, watching as you thrust sharply into his puckered mouth and dig your black claws into his head, drawing one tiny bead of blood as he rapturously accepts your first of many gifts to him.

You hold his head firmly as you slowly soften between his nonexistent lips, occasionally twitching as he swallows around you. To our astonishment, you slide from his mouth with contented sigh and...you slowly kneel before him, first dancing your tongue over his lipless mouth, licking up a stray drop off your own fluids mixed with his saliva before skating your lips down his body.

Ah, now we see. You are to be the first to bring your mate to completion. Our respect for you manifests itself in the hissing murmur of thousands of rustling mandibles.

Your mate watches, bewildered, panting, as you palm his appendage, squeezing almost cruelly and giving it a single lick it before engulfing him in your mouth and throat.

He does not last long under your skilled attentions; shuddering, gasping, his hands grasping helplessly at nothing, his hips twitching minutely. But he never once closes his eyes, as if he is afraid to even blink and have this all be nothing more than a beautiful, terrible dream.

He gives a sharp cry. You pull back and allow him to explode in your mouth, gently lowering him to the ground when he immediately begins to collapse, aligning your body with his and covering your spent forms with your tattered robes.

Another curl of your gnarled fingers, and a small contingent of us delicately crawls into your gaping mouth, chittering at the gift you are giving us. 

Your mate's spend is ecstasy distilled.

Your mouth slowly begins to close, signaling the end of our feast. We retreat to the shadows en masse, a select few choosing to stay and be consumed as you swallow the ambrosia your mate deposited before you both fall into an exhausted slumber. 

We will wait. We will watch. We will guard. Until you summon us again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What. Have. I. Done.
> 
> Dipped my toes into actual explicit content. Still debating word usage with myself. Does snalps constantly use flowery language and anatomical terms? Bugs do. Because they're bugs. Don't question my logic okay?
> 
> These are the things I think about at work now.


	5. Aftercare.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sentient Pickle Jar has some special abilities.

I hold you in my arms, spent from our exertions. Though exhausted, I cannot stop my hands from roaming your crooked, twisted body. You are so precious to me.

You have survived.

Unlike all the others, you were able to withstand my passions. Your skull did not collapse between my hands. You did not suffocate on my cock. Your heart did not stop from pleasure or fear. 

Despite my languor, I can feel my cock stirring again as I contemplate all the things we will do together. Luckily, there is a way to quicken our recovery.

I slowly stand and then levitate your unconscious body, moving us both into the tank in which you matured. Once inside, I gently set you down and join you, unwilling to be separated from your clammy, mottled, wondrous skin. 

"Initiate tank protocol 327." I say softly. Specialized fluids begin to surround us as I gently stroke your face, smiling as your dear eyes blink up at me. Their color reminds me of the copious blue mist which always permeates this planet.

The tank is filled, and we are suspended in a soft healing gel. A bacta hybrid. It caresses us, not quite intrusive but...present. I begin to recover more rapidly from our previous interlude. Breathing has become unnecessary. You become fully awake and I encourage your delicate hands to again begin to explore my body.

I look directly into the internal optical sensors of the tank, and nod. Rewards are necessary to maintain loyalty, and this tank has done well in delivering you to me.

The matrix surrounding us changes. Tentacle-like ropes slither around our bodies. Caressing. Prodding. Grasping. Your familiarity with this sensation is shown by the widening of your legs and slight arching of your back.

The ropes are becoming more insistent. I watch as your cock is squeezed by an invisible hand, and lightly thrust into the coil surrounding mine. My eyes widen and I glance in surprise at the optical sensors again when I feel a tiny tendril exploring the area behind my testicles, tentatively feeling its way backwards. I shrug, feeling magnanimous.

You, again, are used to this treatment. It was part of the preparation your body required prior to our union. One thing you were never allowed, however, was completion, and you are beginning to struggle with the unexpected potency of these sensations. 

You, too, deserve a reward, my love.

The fluidic ropes increase their speed and intensity. I watch you closely, reveling in your pleasure, waiting for my moment. Your proud, pebbled cock throbs and twitches and I move closer, wanting to see it next to mine, the burgundy of your tip contrasting with mine of violet. It is...beautiful.

Your balls draw up and I sweep aside the ropes milking you cock, replacing them with my hand, black fingertips unable to meet around your girth. 

You will come by no hand except mine.

At the first touch of my hand, your eyes snap to mine and you begin to come, your emission immediately absorbed by the tank in which we float. I milk you dry, bearing my teeth in a fierce, inky grin. Assured of your pleasure, I allow myself to come within the grasp of the tank's fluid tentacles, never looking away from your piercing gaze.

I enfold you in my arms, my sweet Snoke, allowing the tank to support and heal us. But also... 

I slit my eyes open, acknowledging the optical sensors yet again with a smirk. It also watches. It will always watch.

I close my eyes and run my tongue along the largest crevice in your head. Assured of your health and safety, we rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you weren't expecting tentacle porn via a threesome with Sentient Pickle Jar. Neither was I, but here we are.
> 
> Explicit Snalps is getting easier to write. I'm scared, guys. Pray for me.
> 
> [QueenOfCarrotFlowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfCarrotFlowers/pseuds/QueenOfCarrotFlowers) requested a threesome, she gets a threesome. With pretty much a droid, even! She did not request tentacles, but I'm going to blame her for them, regardless.


	6. Count it for me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snoke finds out what happens when he fucks up.
> 
> You can blame the sweet, apparently twisted [MissCoppelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCoppelia/pseuds/MissCoppelia) for this one. Totally her idea.

I awaken in a panic triggered by my surroundings.

The past several hours are a confused blur. I am again suspended in a pale yellow matrix, separated from the world by a thick glass-like barrier. Separated from you? Did I displease you? I briefly wonder if our union was all a terrible, beautiful dream, but even in my wildest fantasies I would be unable to conceive of such acts. Such pleasure. Such twisted, glorious sensuality.

I jerk and thrash my long limbs in a frenzy fueled by fear. Fear, and a tiny spark of rage that you would abandon me. That you would lock me away in this…this  _ jar _ , after showing me the beauty of what we could have together. 

I am so frenzied, in fact, that I fail to notice your presence until it is too late. One of my flailing arms strikes soft flesh, almost indistinguishable from the gelatinous substance in which I am suspended, and I immediately freeze, realizing my mistake.

Oh, it is far too late.

You stare at me sternly with your sickly yellow eyes, jaw tight, anger radiating from your naked body, and a terrified thrill runs through me. You shake your head in mock sadness, but I can feel the anticipation rolling off of you in waves. At a sharp flick of your hand, the tank rapidly begins to drain. Within me, fear battles with arousal as I absorb the magnitude of my error. 

Fear wins. 

Invisible bands wrap lovingly around my wrists, ankles, thighs, and neck. You lift your chin, still staring into my eyes, and the bands tighten, pulling my hands behind my back. Spreading my legs. Forcing me to fight for every breath. I am lifted from the tank and left to hover a few feet above the cold stone floor where you called your swarm to join us only a few short hours ago. You don your robes as I gasp and shiver in the blue tinged air, but I am left naked. Spread on my back before you. My every fold and crevice exposed. Balls tight. Cock erect and throbbing along with my pulse; leaking with terrified arousal.

You circle my immobilized body slowly, trailing your decayed fingers over my skin. Your blackened nails catch on every mole and wrinkle, and tiny beads of blood well up in their wake. With a swipe of your thumb, you sample one of the tiny red drops and smear it on your wrinkled, flaky lips, and smile.

"Well, my Snoke. You  _ are _ in quite the pickle, aren't you?" A wet chuckle escapes your throat, and you lean forward, lips brushing my temple, "Did you truly have so little faith in me? In us? I felt your fear...your  _ anger _ ." You say the last word with a haunting reverence.

You sigh in mock sadness. "I was expecting too much from an untrained apprentice, I suppose. I'm looking forward to completing your training. In time, you will call me Master." With a nip on my ear and a caress of my throat, you step back, licking my blood off your lips slowly. "First, however, is the matter of your punishment."

My cock twitches. The invisible bonds tighten and flip me to face the floor. Pre-cum spatters across the hem of your robes, and I whimper, unsure now if it is fear or anticipation I feel. The band around my throat loosens enough for me to take a deep breath, and I feel your hand caress my buttocks gently, as if soothing a skittish animal. My breath freezes in my lungs as your beautifully withered fingers invade the crevice between the hollow, sunken cheeks of my ass.

"Ah ah ah...not this time, I'm afraid, my young apprentice. This is a punishment, after all." With a harsh pinch, your hand withdraws.

With no warning other than a tightening of the bands around my thighs, your hand strikes my ass with a loud clap. I desperately cry out your name, and my open mouth is immediately gagged with the same force currently holding me aloft. 

"You have not earned my name today, sweetling, but I do so love to hear your cries. Can you be a good boy for me if I free your sweet mouth?" You bring my face close to yours as you run your thumb over my chin.

I nod vigorously, whimpering, suddenly aware that my arousal has overtaken my terror, and the gag disappears. I ready myself for the next strike of your hand, feeling the sting of the first one still throbbing in time with the pulse of my cock.

Instead, your hand grips my cock and gives it a single stroke. From root to tip. I let out a long, low, rattling moan, my entire body twitching. That same hand flicks my vulnerable balls, and my moan turns into a yelp. 

As I tense up, the next blow lands on my ass.

It is followed by a second, and a third...I soon lose count in the haze of hot pain and twisted pleasure. You carefully canvass my entire backside until it is a single throbbing bruise, occasionally pausing to admire your work by tracing the most recent imprint your twisted hand has left on my skin. My moans and sobs fill the cavernous room, echoing back to us in a glorious choir.

This pause is longer than the others. I hear a rustling behind me, and your harsh breaths warm my neck. "You will count the last five blows out loud, my love. Don't worry, if you lose count, I will be quite...happy to start over."

I take a shuddering breath. "Yes...Master." I can feel your pride and pleasure in the soft kiss you drop on my bony shoulder before you step back. My painfully hard cock releases another spurt of fluid, joining the puddle on the floor beneath me.

The next blow comes, somehow harsher than any of its predecessors. It takes all my willpower to focus; the pleasure is too terrible to endure.  _ How will I… _

"ONE!" My voice cracks, throat ragged from my prior screams.

"TWO" It is too much. My hips try to thrust against the empty air.

"THRee" I struggle to focus, determined not to disappoint you.

"Four…" It is almost a whisper.

" **_FIVE_ ** " 

The last count is wrenched from my throat in a scream as the final blow lands in the center of my ass. Your hand quickly pries my swollen cheeks apart and I hear you grunt just before the first hot, stinging splash of your cum lands directly on my clenched, twitching hole. It slides down my ass to` my taut sack and you rub it in with the head of your cock, moaning and lowering us both to the floor as the bonds disappear from my body.

"You have done well, my Snoke." You reach for my cock, spreading your cum over its shiny head and crooked, lumpy shaft. "Count your strokes." Your jagged teeth scrape my misshapen ear.

I release a ragged sigh, feeling strangely serene, and close my eyes.

"One…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [MissCoppelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCoppelia/pseuds/MissCoppelia) wanted spanking. She got some spanking.
> 
> Have I driven you away yet? No? Okay.
> 
> This one was...weird to write. I'll just leave it at that.


	7. The guardians.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheev is a very sentimental man.
> 
> More bugs! (A hive this time, and they are moth-ish in case you can't tell)

We wait, and we guard. 

While our darker, more vicious brethren swarm is scattered throughout the dim crevices and corners of your domain, you chose for us to make our hive underground, delicately crawling and fluttering amongst the ornately hewn stone shelves which house our charges, our silky, patterned wings a deceptive camouflage for the deadly venom we carry. The collective murmur of said wings echoes off of the painstakingly crafted receptacles with a melodious hum. Only rarely are we exposed to the light, for the delicate specimens in our care fare far better in complete darkness.

Luckily, we prefer the darkness.

We go about our tasks, rotating containers, checking fluid levels and tasting for quality, making adjustments when necessary to carefully preserve your treasured mementos. We are rarely disturbed unless you are depositing another ward to our guardianship or in the rare event when your vast loneliness impels you to visit.

So many of your mates have fallen. Too weak. Too fragile. Unable to handle the force and fury of your undivided attention.

Some barely made it past the first caress. Others were able to experience a meeting of mouth parts before they perished; their wonderfully pallid, fleshy, wrinkled bodies simply too weak for the task before them. None ever got so far as to experience your full mating ritual. 

At least, not alive, and not in one piece. 

But...you loved them all. We mourned alongside you with each loss as our guardianship grew and grew along with the size of our hive. Thousands of us are now required to keep your mementos as safe and pristine as they deserve. 

Tonight, there is a disturbance. The flashes of strong emotion we have recently felt from you hint that something exceptional has transpired. We know another mate was due to be completed, and so we prepare another receptacle, just in case. 

The susurration of our soft wings rises to a soft roar as we feel you approach. The emotion you are projecting is unfamiliar to us. Satisfaction. Triumph. Vicious, hungry excitement. The roar deepens as we add leg stridulation to our chorus. 

"Rise!" your voice, raspy and wet, echoes faintly underground, and light begins to gleam over us as the hive and all of its treasures slowly ascends from the caverns below. Many of us cannot help but take to the air to admire its beauty, our silvery wings flashing in the dim light. 

Though quite pleasing when hidden in darkness, the collection is truly wondrous when light shines upon it. Minute crystals imbedded in the stone shelves catch the light and cast tiny rainbows in the perpetual blue mist swirling throughout your realm, but even they cannot detract from the splendor of what is displayed in the hundreds of gleaming pods the shelves contain. 

Our wards. Your mementos.

Hundreds of humanoid penises on display, proudly floating in transparent, glass-like receptacles on sparkling stone shelves.

They sit suspended in clear, lavender-tinged liquid, which is then encased in a hard, open mouthed shell comprised of special secretions from our mating organs. A fitting receptacle. 

The oldest is in the least pristine shape, as the preservation process had not yet been perfected. It requires the most care, as its tissue slowly degrades over time, clouding the preservation liquid almost faster than we can change it. Eventually its origins will no longer be recognizable, but it is still a proud specimen in its own right.

We do try to keep you from communing with that one, but the heart wants what it wants, as you say. 

The others are in such perfect condition, they could still be attached to their former bodies. Pink, bumpy skin covers the shafts, mottled with purple bruise-like stains and capped with bulbous heads that range in color from deep burgundy to a ripe, almost pulsating magenta. 

They vary vastly in size. The smallest (number 274) is scarcely longer than a young guardian's thorax, while the largest (66)…well, we gladly sacrificed several days and 100 members of our hive to create a receptacle large enough to house it. Though you do not choose to commune with it often, when you do,  _ oh _ , it is a sight to behold. You invariably leave looking as if you have been in battle with a titan, which we suppose you have, considering that it is as long as your arm and thrice as thick.

Few are perfectly straight; a crooked curve to the left is most common. Some are quite slim, while others are so girthy that they, too, require specialized receptacles. 

They are all beautiful. Just as beautiful as the fallen mates from whom they were harvested. When you brought each of the bodies to the hive for the removal and preservation ceremonies, we marveled at the perfection you had wrought in your creations. The care you took with your knife as you shaved off their mating organs emphasized the love you felt for them.

Your generosity in allowing us to consume the bodies after you communed with them for the first and final time always astounds us. We are forever grateful for such glorious and sacred feasts, and a secret delight would never fail to creep in beneath the mourning when the hive could taste your essence along with the flesh of your fallen mates. 

Tonight, however, there is no fallen mate. There is only you, and you are not exuding the loneliness that indicates a communion is necessary. You approach the hive and gently brush soft wings with a black tipped claw, grazing some of your favorite mementos as you peruse the glittering shelves, seeming to be deep in thought.

"Which one shall it be?" you mutter quietly, pausing to caress one of the girthier specimens almost absently. Despite your changed demeanor, there is apparently still to be a communion. Our wings rustle with excitement.

Finally you stop, your choice apparently made. Your skeletal hand reaches into the receptacle for number 301, a finely formed member of generous girth and length capped with a gleaming head reminiscent of an overripe plum. You hold it up to the light to admire it as its viscous preservation fluids slide slowly down your pale arm, the contrast between your pale grey and black fingers and the warm pink flesh of your fallen mate's penis almost poetically striking.

You toss the fleshy, eternally erect shaft in the air and a cloud of us rises to catch it, lovingly cleaning it of any residual preservation fluid while you remove your robes to bare your grey skinned, corpselike body, glorious in your shriveled nudity. We pause to admire you for a brief second, then carefully affix our charge to one of the specialized mounts built into the shelves of our hive, perfectly at hip height and rising from an ornate carving that upon closer inspection is revealed to be a swirl of faces, all resembling your mate.

You approach reverently, your blackened teeth bared in a soft smile, and kneel, immediately enveloping the cock, as you call it, in your mouth and throat. The communion has begun.

The wet sounds of your mouth fill the air as your thin, cracked lips stretch and slide over your chosen specimen. Several moments later, you draw your mouth away slowly, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the shining head of the cock. Further streams of your oral secretions cover the shaft, preparing it for what comes next.

You rise and turn, your own now-erect cock pulsing in the humid air and dripping with mating fluids. Slowly, you align the opening of your hind gut with the head of the cock mounted behind you and glide yourself back and forth over it. You rasp out a hoarse, sticky moan and squeeze your cock roughly, causing the tip to darken to an almost black violet as more of your mating fluids cover your fingers.

With practiced ease, you impale yourself almost roughly on the cock behind you, welcoming it fully into your hind gut with one swift backwards thrust of your hips. After only a brief pause, the vibrations of your harsh grunts caress our wings as you grind and thrust yourself towards the ultimate culmination of this communion, your movements rapidly quickening, your hand now nearly strangling your cock as you thrust into it, nearly lost in your pleasure.

Suddenly, you freeze.

Soft footsteps echo towards us, followed by a soft, whimpering gasp. Your jaundiced eyes snap open, your hand frozen around your own cock, your body still impaled on the cock mounted behind you. You smile lovingly.

We are in awe. Your mate is a work of art. Crookedly tall, skin mottled and perfectly matching all the specimens we've guarded over so many of our lifetimes. So many wrinkles and intriguing crevices that call for exploration. And oh, his mating parts! Quite possibly the most beautiful version we have ever seen, combining all the best features from the hundreds that have come before them. We take to the air to get a closer view as it slowly hardens between your mate's legs while he takes in the scene before him. Thick, ripe burgundy head, solid, lumpy shaft. Perfectly placed pink and purple discolorations. Yes. This is a fine specimen.

With a curl of your fingers, you beckon him forward, the hand around your cock now tilting it in invitation. As if in a daze, he approaches the hive and falls to his knees in front of you, wide blue eyes staring at the hundreds of very familiar cocks on display behind you. You smile down and him and caress his scarred head, then slowly guide his gaping mouth to your weeping cock.

"Long have I waited for you, my Love. My Snoke" Your raspy voice croons, darkly, lovingly. "A piece of you was saved with each failure." Your hands tighten on your mate's head. "Carefully preserved and sometimes visited in my lowest hours." Your mate greedily inhales your cock, drool running down his chin. "Every version of you was cherished, but you...you are more than I could ever have imagined." The last few words come out as a gasp as your mate's hands wrap around your pallid, slim hips and  _ push _ , grinding you against the cock behind you, His cock.

You look down at him in surprised lust, meeting his eyes briefly before your back arches and you moan again feebly as he swallows around you. His movements are almost harsh, vicious, as he skillfully brings you closer and closer to your climax, staring up at you fixedly as his fingers dig bruisingly into your hips.

WIth a growl, he rips you off of the cock in your hind gut and slams you back against the shelf behind you, his mouth never leaving your cock. Three of his fingers tear into the crevice between your legs to replace the cock he just removed, and you let out a choked yell, helplessly thrusting into his mouth and back onto his long, crooked fingers.

There is a final movement of his hand behind you, and your entire body spasms, his throat working frantically to swallow your mating essence as you whimper and clutch his head. We watch with intense jealousy, knowing what a treat he is receiving.

Once your twitching subsides, Snoke removes his mouth and fingers from your body and stands, his cock still proudly erect and weeping copiously. He leans towards you as you continue to gasp weakly in recovery.

"You" he rasps firmly into your ear, "are  _ mine _ ."

You snap your eyes up to his in shock, just before he forces you back against the shelves and slides his open mouth over yours.

The entire hive flutters and swirls joyously around you and your mate as you embrace, surrounded by memories of the fallen. Our waiting is done, but our guardianship continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DICKLES
> 
> Hundreds of dickles in jars stored underground, guarded by venomous moths.
> 
> This scenario was completely inspired by a delightful interaction in the dark reylo discord. It went as follows:
> 
> [MissCoppelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCoppelia/pseuds/MissCoppelia): "omg dickles"
> 
> Me: "DICKLES"
> 
> [QueenOfCarrotFlowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfCarrotFlowers/pseuds/QueenOfCarrotFlowers): "dickles"
> 
> Me: "DOES PALPS HAVE DICKLES OF EVERY FAILED SNOKE"
> 
> [QueenOfCarrotFlowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfCarrotFlowers/pseuds/QueenOfCarrotFlowers): "oh no"
> 
> I must also at least partially dedicate this to Millie ([bugs_not_bunny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bugs_not_bunny/pseuds/bugs_not_bunny)), because bugs.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> (I'm on twitter as @kookoocachooooo, but it's all shitposting and reylo, pretty much)
> 
> Requests are welcome! Tell me what kind of terrible things you want to see. I will most likely write them because I love to torture myself.


End file.
